


Commander

by FullMetamorphosis



Series: The Breaker of Jormag [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Disappearance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, More will come as I get the chapters up lol, Norn - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Original Characters - Freeform, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Trauma, drastically so, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullMetamorphosis/pseuds/FullMetamorphosis
Summary: The stranger doesn’t try to attract attention, doesn’t try to make a scene. But they’re walking up to the fang.I get up and take a few steps as I try to see better. They’re looking over the fang quietly, as if measuring it up. I can see them reaching for a weapon at their side, and my heart swells as I see that it’s - it’s a wrought axe. Two of them, one on their left hip, the other clenched in their covered hands.I watch their body move as they take a breath in. I see a subtle glow begin, red, as if they’re beginning to spark-And then they swing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to "Commander"! If you're unfamiliar with what's going on, you can read my first fic, "Slain", right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503481
> 
> "Commander" is heavily canon non-compliant, due to A) my not having played HoT or PoF, and B) things turning out very, very badly in that verse. So! We are sticking with an interesting new story that will be interesting and informative.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“You know how the Citadel is - always caught up with damn ghosts. Just when we think we have them beat, they all come back again. It’s impossible to deal with on a normal day and a migraine on the worst. And nobody wants to see other priorities . . . isn’t that typical. Then again, I’m sure you’ve had a struggle with that as well. Getting people to believe in the threat the dragons pose is a pain in the neck. Thankfully, I have plenty of hands free in Blood Legion to put a dent into the Branded, and get some hints on Kralkatorrik.”

 

Rytlock Brimstone takes a sip of his ale across the table. He reaches down and scratches Garm behind the ears - and then he looks at me.

 

“-then again, it’s hard for them to get work done when I’m not  _ there _ . Why’d you call me in, Stegalkin?”

 

“I needed some company, and Caithe told me you were running yourself dry again. Not to mention you’re the closest. I thought if anybody had the chance for a quick visit, maybe it’d be you.”

 

He snorts and sips his ale. “Well, this ‘chance’ of yours lasts about two days. You’re lucky I had to come into Hoelbrak on business. How’s life been?”

 

“The last eight months since we defeated Zhaitan have been surprisingly quiet. Hoelbrak’s been celebrating, but to be honest it’s gotten tiring, going to the same moots day in and day out. It feels a lot like before I started traveling. A part of me thinks to go out, but . . .”

 

I look to the window and sigh. Rytlock seems to know exactly what I mean.

 

“You haven’t heard from Alexei.”

 

“Have  _ you _ heard from Logan?”

 

I eye him out the corner of my eye. I’d swear he’s blushing, if I’d ever known a charr to blush behind all that fur. “I thought you wouldn’t bring that up,” he mutters. I chuckle.

 

“You win some, you lose some, Rytlock.”

 

“Logan’s been busy back in Divinity’s Reach. Apparently Queen Jennah’s trying to start devoting some troops to fight the dragons, but the ministry isn’t allowing her much leeway. He’s doing his best to challenge it, but of course, they’re humans. Nothing ever gets done.”

 

“I’m sure they’re expecting Primordus to defeat himself,” I murmur into my mug of ale. Rytlock puts his down hard as he suppresses a snicker. I continue. “I’m sure Logan will have it figured out soon, though that Ministry is a pain in the gut. I wonder if he’d perhaps like some outside assistance . . .”

 

“I doubt even Destiny’s Edge can put a stop to whatever the Ministry’s doing,” Rytlock barks in response. He lifts his mug to his lips again. “What about you? Able to convince anybody up here?”

 

“I’ve been trying, but everybody’s just content to sit with the victory over Zhaitan and do nothing about the rest of it. It’s rather infuriating, I must admit. Every time I think I can convince Knut, too, something comes up. And then he goes back to focusing on other priorities,” I sigh. “And then there’s the Sons of Svanir, and they cause us about as much trouble as Jormag. At least Jormag has the decency to stay asleep, but the Sons damage property, attack civilians, steal children. I remember there was even a time they had a presence in Hoelbrak - before Alexei and I flushed them out.”

 

“Which brings us back to earlier. You haven’t heard from them.”

 

Eight months. That’s how long I have been waiting for them - when we’d originally spoken, shortly after the victory over Zhaitan, we’d agreed they’d only be gone for six. We’d sat and worked out the plans. There hadn’t been any weather, or any major event, that should’ve gotten in the way of them coming back. And heaven knows I’ve eager.  _ Everybody _ ’s been eager. The Pact is rearing to go . . . but not without their commander.

 

And now they haven’t come back.

 

I resist asking the Spirits for  _ anything _ , but . . .

 

I look out the window. It’s a sunny day in the Shiverpeaks, for once, but it feels like it should be raining. I grasp for the ring on my finger and twist it around nervously. I’m not sure how to alleviate my own panic.

 

“. . .they should  _ be _ here.”

 

“Perhaps something called them away for longer. Wouldn’t be a surprise. I’ve gotten caught up on the field, too.”

 

“But this was a personal commitment, not a matter of war! It’s fair if they want more time, but I’m simply . . .”

 

I drop my hands. My nails tap against the counter. Finally, I turn back to my mug, and take a swig of ale.

  
“No. They’re safe, I’m sure they are. The Spirits are not unfair. They would tell me if something had happened, or send me a sign, or . . .  _ something _ .”

 

“You know how I feel about those ‘spirits’ of yours.”

 

“They aren’t your old gods, Rytlock. They’ve never steered me wrong before.”

 

I hear Garm bark. He jumps up and rubs against my leg. I reach down and scratch him behind the ears, a subtle thanks. I appreciate the cuddly action, regardless of how out of character it seems for him.

 

No, I can’t think about that. I have to have faith. They’re still out there. Returning to me, and my bed, where they belong.

 

“Have you considered a rescue party?”

 

“They’ll make it back,” I say again. “I simply have to wait for them. Nothing worth it comes easily.”

 

“Not unless you’re in a position of command.”

 

“I prefer to work in partnerships, not commands. I can’t imagine how all of you do it.”

 

“Less compassion. Although maybe that doesn’t apply to some,” he takes another sip of ale. “It’ll be exciting to see Alex back. We’re all curious to see what their next action will be. For such a big player, they’ve been away from the action for a long time.”

 

A long time indeed. Too long, now.

 

Oh, Alexei. You’d promised only  _ six months _ .

 

***

Three years ago, I met somebody. A young norn, just into their adulthood, who’d won the year’s Great Hunt by slaying the wurm Issormir. They were Alexei Wright, orphaned at a young age, sibling to a norn who’d become a Son of Svanir; still, regardless of their tumultuous background, they’d been charismatic, and strong. We fell in love, and fought for our connection as the world shifted around the eye of Zhaitan. It’d been complicated, a mess, a tearing of the heartstrings and more nerve-wrecking than anything I’d ever done, even fight a dragon . . .

 

And it’d been ridiculously worth it.

 

But after we’d defeated Zhaitan, they’d told me they wanted time to go out and think, so we planned for them to circle around in the Frostgorge Sound and be back in Hoelbrak six months later. And I had been so ready, prepared, to see them home - but now, two months past when they were due to be home, they aren’t. What am I supposed to think? I’ve wanted to go out and find them, but I’ve feared that then they would return while I’m gone. I’ve wanted to send a search party, but what if they were just on their way back anyway, and I called attention for nothing? I fear and fear and fear. I can’t shake it.

 

“Nobody would blame you,” Knut tells me, “If you wanted to call a watch for them.”

 

“It would humiliate them, to know they’ve caused such distress on such a wide scale. I have to keep it together. They’ll return home. I’m at least certain they’re alive, or else the Spirits would tell me Themselves.”

 

“The Spirits do work in mysterious ways,” Knut says. “Still, should you change your mind, you may always ask me, Eir. I’ll keep you both in my prayers.”

 

Knut has been supportive ever since he’s learned about our partnership. We’d told him privately, after the battle with Zhaitan was over, and thankfully, he’s never judged us. I worried, at first; our relationship wasn’t typical, given how much older than them I am, and that we’re both female. But he’s always been a shoulder to lean on when it’s come to my woes and worries about Alex.

 

Alex. What’s kept you so long?

 

If they were home, I’d be able to move forward. Convince everybody to rally . . . start a real assault against Jormag.

 

But no.

 

Instead, I’m left at home, trying to chat with my friend Rytlock, and my heart just  _ hurts _ .

 

***

 

I’m reassured to find three letters from my friends when I look in the mail, shortly after Rytlock leaves. Letters from Caithe, Zojja, and Logan. Each of them pack a slice of jerky, which I toss to Garm as I step inside. He gobbles them up quickly, and then joins me at my side as I sit at the table and slowly rip open the letters.

 

The first is from Caithe:

 

_ It’s unfortunate to hear that you’ve made so little progress with the norn against Jormag. I’ve found similar problems within the Grove. Everybody has been focused on the success against Zhaitan, and entirely unable to see the real threats that still remain. I’ve bolstered a few to the cause, but nobody of note. Simply some researchers who are as curious as I am to find where Mordremoth lingers. We’ve been doing some research to suggest he may be lurking within the jungles, but where, exactly, is hard to pinpoint. It’s been a concern that none of us are able to shake. More research is definitely needed. _

 

_ The only one of us who seems to be having real success seems to be Zojja, and even she’s only amassed a small sum of Rata Sum’s information. What are we to do, if we cannot convince anybody of the threat of the dragons? I hate to think of what that might mean for Tyria. But people have to see, now, that our cause is a worthy one. After all, the Pact has succeeded in defeating Zhaitan. It’ll only be a matter of time before they move onto their next target. _

 

_ As for your beloved, I share in your concern. What could be keeping them, I wonder? I know little about your region, but I do know the Frostgorge Sound may be the most perilous, for as close as it is to Jormag. I truly hope they are not hurt - don’t think they would be, given their strengths - but then again, I don’t know them nearly as well as you do. Perhaps wait a bit longer, to see if they return, but if not, you must go after them. The world cannot lose a hero such as them. _

 

Following her note, I’m sure Logan’s is meant to be happier. But his only brings me down further.

 

_ Nobody wants to believe in anything I have to say. Just when I’ve convinced Queen Jennah, the Ministry will do something to oppose all movement, and then I’ve lost her interest all over again. It’s maddening. The only thing that can keep me positive is all my correspondences with Rytlock. I swear, if I can’t make any more traction here, I’m just going to go to the Black Citadel and see him myself, the Six be damned. I can’t stand being here and being unable to do anything. How did we manage it before Zhaitan? _

 

_ I’m sorry to hear about Alexei. They’re a bright one, if not frustrating. I’m sure it’s frustrating, too, that they haven’t come home. But if something’s kept them away, I’m sure it’s important. They wouldn’t leave you to worry, I’m sure. I certainly wouldn’t leave Rytlock to wonder. Not anymore. I still have time to make up for, so I’m meeting it as best as I can. Meanwhile, I work hard here, and with the ambassadors from the Pact. Slowly, but surely, we’re improving things. We’re going to do right by the world, Eir, I swear it. _

 

Last is Zojja’s letter. Surprisingly, hers is the most positive I can tell.

 

_ If Alexei isn’t home by the time this reaches you, then I beg of you, Eir, go after them! Most certainly they’re being fickle, and it can’t be in their best interest to be away for so long. Go look for them before they end up doing something unimaginably foolish. What that would be, I can hardly imagine, but surely they’re not dead. Most likely off on some wild goose chase. Either way, the dragons are too important for them to be soul-searching. Already here we’re making great progress on researching the dragons. And many of my students are aiding in the task, as well; there is one apprentice of mine who shows a lot of promise. Perhaps I will bring her to meet you one day - she is rather brilliant - but until then, it is to our own work. _

 

_ If you continue to struggle with progress in Hoelbrak, simply let me know. I can send scholars there to educate the norn, or else beat some sense into them. _

 

The support of my friends is something I missed, back when we were in disarray. To have it now is an encouraging sign, especially with both the matters at hand. Zojja’s, especially. Though things had been so heated before, now it’s back to old times, where her and I were closer. I wonder if I should take her up on her offer to send scholars. They certainly would help educate the norn here . . . though I wonder if all asura are as quick with their fists as Zojja tends to be.

 

There’s a common theme to all the letters, though, which is that something has to be done for Alex. It’s just hard to tell  _ what _ . And something needs to be done in Hoelbrak, as well . . . I’m not sure what to do about any of it. I sigh, and fold my letters up again. I can feel it in my tired legs: I need a walk, to somewhere or something. I get up and walk to the door to pull on my boots. I whistle to Garm.

 

“Up and at ‘em, Garm. Let’s go for a walk, old friend.”

 

***

 

Hoelbrak is quiet, and gets even quieter the longer we’re out. I hadn’t initially planned for us to be out so long, but first dusk and then nighttime starts descending as we walk, and I don’t have the mind to turn us back home. I’m concerned - it’s all I feel these days, is  _ concern _ , and I can hardly stand it. Everybody else seems as lost as me, and if they aren’t, then they’re busy with their own work. It feels like there’s nobody I can turn to, and nobody to ask for wisdom.

 

But . . . there is one way. And I think of it as I go to pass by Wolf’s Lodge, and swiftly change my mind.

 

It’s dark inside, and quiet. The shrine is dimly lit. I add to the light, quietly lighting first one candle, then two. I extinguish the match in a little bowl of water in the center of the altar, and then I kneel and sit on my heels. Slowly, I bring my hands together, and pray.

 

_ Spirits of the Wild _ , I think,  _ Please. My people cannot see past themselves to the threats that lie beyond the Shiverpeaks we reside. And my partner is absent, missing, gone from my hearth. I’m at a loss for what to do. I can’t think of if I should stay or go, or to where, and why. It seems all an impossibility. How do I lead myself out of this? _

 

There’s silence in my mind. Nothing but the sound of my breathing, and the flickering of candles beyond my vision, and the weight of my body against my heels.

 

. . . slowly, softly, a set of voices speak into my mind.

 

_ Patience, Hunter. _

 

I see visions of swirling snows. I see a figure walking through them, holding themselves around the waist. There is a swath of blood. The figure is screaming.

 

That image fades, and is replaced. Two figures, hand in hand, walking towards a horizon. Weapons out, one a bow, the other an axe. And behind them, gathering, is a crowd with weapons drawn. Somebody shouts. A war cry is brought up by all.

 

That image, too, begins to fade, and is finally replaced with one of peace. Two people sitting at a fire, leaning against one another. In one’s hand is a bottle; the other’s, a babe. The family huddles around one another. They are happy.

 

The visions fade, and with one last, ebbing sort of focus, I see an image of the Fang of Jormag in my mind.

 

My eyes fly open to the dim light of the altar, and my body goes tense.

 

_ Tomorrow _ .

 

The voices of before utter the final word, and then go silent.

 

I look around. The lodge is utterly vacant, except for me and Garm. Though the lodge is lit with fires to keep it warm, my body feels cold. I know only two things. One, I need to be in the Great Lodge tomorrow. And the other: the premonition of the first vision is truly, deeply, terrifying.

 

It’s Alex.

 

***

 

The lodge isn’t as busy as it usually is. It’s almost quiet as I sit down on a bench near the Fang the next day, my body tight from a night tossing and turning in bed. I wonder, for not the first time, what the Spirits mean to show me. They often guide me, true, but it’s rare that they’re so opaque. It’s hard to decide for what purpose that might be. All I can hope is that they’re leading me on the right path.

 

Garm’s back at the steading, keeping watch. It’s just me today, watching the entrance, praying for them to walk through the great doors. Bold and brave, or even weak and weary. Whichever version of my Alex comes home, I’ll take. I simply need for them to be home, and back in my arms.

 

I’m so taken with my thoughts that I barely sense it as somebody sits beside me.

 

“Quiet today,” I hear Knut say, breaking me from my mind. I nod slowly, but my eyes never leave the entrance. “Who are you looking for, Eir?”

 

“Alexei. The Spirits told me to be here.”

 

“Funny. They asked me to be here as well.”

 

I fist my hands in my greaves. If something doesn’t happen, I’m going to explode. I keep thinking of everything everyone said - to turn out a search party, or go looking for them myself. I’m nearly convinced, the longer and longer we wait. Ten minutes turn into thirty. Thirty into an hour, and yet Knut and I wait. The Lodge ebbs and flows. People gather in their groups around the Fang. Nobody today, yet, has tried to break it.

 

Finally, somebody appears in the doorway of the Lodge.

 

I tense up and immediately grab for Knut’s hand. I can’t see their face clearly - it’s covered by a cowl, blocking all by their eyes, which are too far to see. Their hair’s red, and their outfit’s the same: red and orange, some hints of green. But it’s not armour. It’s fabric, twisted and draped around their form, covering from their neck to their feet. The only armoured parts of them are their one shoulder, their forearms, and their shins. Their armour is black and pale gold; it shines like it’s new.

 

The stranger doesn’t try to attract attention, doesn’t try to make a scene. But they’re walking up to the fang.

 

I get up and take a few steps as I try to see better. They’re looking over the fang quietly, as if measuring it up. I can see them reaching for a weapon at their side, and my heart swells as I see that it’s - it’s a wrought  _ axe _ . Two of them, one on their left hip, the other clenched in their covered hands.

 

I watch their body move as they take a breath in. I see a subtle glow begin, red, as if they’re beginning to spark-

 

And then they swing.

 

_ C R A C K. _

 

I cry out in shock. The fang - it  _ breaks _ . Cracks shone outward from where the axe is now lodged into the tooth, and pieces of tooth breaking and clattering to the floor. The whole lodge suddenly hushes. Knut jumps to his feet and joins me as I stare, in awe, at the stranger pulling their axe from the fang. I’m speechless.

 

“The fang . . . is broken!” Knit announces in shock. A cry rises from the crowd, and it suddenly swells into cheers as everybody in the lodge runs to see, to crowd around the figure.

 

The figure, themselves, seems just as shocked. Staring blankly at the fang, and it’s now-shorn marks. But I still can’t see their face well; my heart’s beating so hard it feels like it’ll burst, and I’m so taken that I don’t notice the man slipping from the crowd and lunging towards the breaker until it’s too late for me to scream-

 

The stranger turns and bursts into  _ flames _ . Sparks everywhere, bursting from their body as they twist on their heel and slamming their axe into the neck of the Son of Svanir, wielding a knife in his hand. The Son gargles on his own blood, muttering something about “ _ -live Jormag _ ” before dropping to the floor. The cowl falls from the stranger’s face-

 

I cry out.

 

“ALEXEI!”

 

They turn around to look at me, and I can truly see the green of their eyes. I forget myself entirely: I run up the steps to the platform and throw myself at them, hugging them so tight I’m not sure they can breathe. They don’t react, stunned, before the crowd is screaming and their arms are coming up around my back. Their face buries into my neck, and their hands come to my hair.

 

“Eir...”

 

I pull back enough to see their face - their glossy eyes, the shaky smile of relief on their face - before leaning in and kissing them.

 

I can hear the cheers of the crowd as we hold each other, and I listen to them roar out their title.

 

“THE BREAKER OF JORMAG!”


	2. Chapter 2

The steading is dark as we make our way indoors. I shut the door behind us, and my hands are immediately upon them, trying to pull them closer to my body. Our lips touch. My hands find their hair, and theirs come to my arms, and we’re standing in the entrance of the lodge and kissing, struck dumb, solid and trapped and real in each others’ arms.

 

They pull away just an inch . . .

 

“Eir.”

 

They’re smiling. Their eyes are watering, and they look so tired. I press my forehead to theirs and shut my eyes. I’m shaking.

 

“Alexei.”

 

I drop my hands, and meet theirs palm-to-palm. Our fingers intertwine, and they bring my hands up to press against one another, linked, connected. We kiss again, softly this time, gently. Our bodies are pressed close together. When we part, it’s only for breath, interrupted when we quickly kiss again.

 

Their hands are becoming tense in mine, grabbing for more, reaching forward for more while their body slides closer to mine. I finally let go of them so I can wrap arms around their waist, and drag them closer. Their breath is a fluttering thing in my mouth. I pull back and kiss the corner of their lips, and then down to their neck, and over their jumping pulse.

 

“It’s been so long,” They breathe. I moan an agreement against their skin - I want our clothes off, less in between us, as quickly as possible. We pull apart to that task. There’s so many intricate fabrics over their body that seem so tough to untangle, I barely know where to start, other than to start pulling and hope I get somewhere. They giggle. It’s a silly task, standing in the dark, laughing softly together. Their hands find the hem of my shirt, and immediately pull it over my head. I let them. I go back to pulling at their armor, first their pauldron, and then their gauntlets. They drop to the floor in a heap.

 

Alexei’s hands grab for mine and stop them, and they bring our right hands together, our wedding bands gently clinking together. “Reunited,” they say. I can hear the smile in their voice. I bring their hand up and hold it in both of mine, and kiss their ring.

 

“Eight months,” I say, “Felt like an eternity without you.”

 

“It was too long,” they agree. A quiet, injust part of my mind wonders,  _ then why were you gone for so long? _ But now isn’t the time. What matters now is that I have them in my arms, and they’re home. I kiss them again, and my hands go back to tugging at their clothes. They giggle into the kiss, and help to divest themselves of their garments.

 

Slowly, piece by piece, robe by robe, we drop their clothes to the floor. It isn’t long before we’re both bare above the waist, and pressed together, and  _ kissing _ . Their skin is just as warm and electrifying as it was before. My arms wrap around them, feeling over the sculpt of their back; their hands find my hair. It isn’t long before my hair’s being dropped from its tie, and sashes across my back. They fist it in their hands and pull away to press their nose to it, and inhale. Taking in my scent.

 

“You truly missed me,” I say, smiling through tears. They nod against me, and pull me tighter to them.

 

“I missed the scent of you. All of you.”

 

“Oh,  _ Alex _ . . .”

 

Time seems to skip. Fingers trailing over each others’ waistbands, stumbling feet, bare bodies against one another as we fall onto the bed. Our legs fall together, and I fist their hair and kiss them as I roll my hips down on theirs. They pull in a gasping breath, and I look down on them with a laugh that barely escapes from my throat. My face presses to their throat as my hands trail down, over their ribs, their waist, their hips, forward into the crease of their leg-

 

-and all of a sudden, they force me back.

 

I’m struck, for a moment, looking down at them as they grip my shoulders so hard it’s nearly painful. I blink down at them, at their wide-open eyes, their parted lips. I bite down on mine.

 

“Love?”

 

“. . .  _ Eir _ .”

 

It’s a phrase, the saying of my name, and it’s as simple as that. They still look like they’ve been hit over the head, and I reach up and cup their cheek. “Yes, love?”

 

“. . . Eir. Eir.”

 

I wonder, for a moment, if they’re saying my name, or talking about something else. They seem dazed - confused. They blink, and slowly they release my shoulders. Their hands find mine, and bring them back down to the center of them, as their legs part.

 

“ _ Eir _ .”

 

I lean down and kiss their forehead, and bring my free hand to their hair as I touch their center. They gasp, loudly, as their body arches up into mine.

 

“Eir-!”

 

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here,” I whisper to them, and they relax. I’m softly rolling their clit in my fingers, small circles against their body, and they’re shaking like a leaf. They grab onto my shoulders and bury their face in my neck. I can hear them breathing fast, hips gyrating against mine, body desperate. It’s been so long. I tuck my face against their hair. “When did you last feel this, Alex?”

 

“Too long- or- too close-”

 

They’re not making sense. They gasp, and toss against me. When I pull back, their eyes are pained, and devoid.

 

“Eir . . . Eir, ah . . .  _ ah . . . _ ”

 

“Love?” I slow my hand against them, and press my other hand to their cheek. “Are you okay?”

 

They shake their head - shake like they’re saying no. But their hips are rolling so hard against mine, and they pull me closer and bury their face in my shoulder. I can hear them saying it again and again - my name, and I’m caught, unsure whether to give them more or whether to pull back. They turn their head to kiss my neck. Kissing my skin, and up, and pressing their face into my hair.

 

“Eir, don’t . . . don’t . . .”

 

_ Don’t stop _ . I take from their words as much as I can. I press my fingers against their slit, and pushing in, and then they’re cursing and grabbing onto me harder. It feels almost painful. I hold them with my free arm, trying to make them feel present, trying to make them feel . . . loved.

 

“I love you, Alexei. I’m right here.”

 

I hear them let out a gasp, so heavy and vocal it sounds like a sob. Their body shudders, and I feel them going tight around my fingers almost too quickly to imagine. They shake, and I kiss their face and help them ease out of it, until they’re a trembling mess against the covers. As they recover, I pull my hand free of them, and bring it to their face. I kiss their brow, and whisper their name.

 

“ _ Alex _ .”

 

“Ah . . .” they breathe against me, and finally force out light, cautious words. “G-Guess it’s been . . . a while.”

 

They sound embarrassed. I pause, for just a second . . . and finally say, “You’ve been gone for eight months. I’m not surprised that you’re a little fast.”

 

It comes out teasing, and they let out two little laughs, breathy and relieved. They curl against me, and hold me. “Eir . . .”

 

I lie down with them, and hold them in my arms.

 

And I wonder why, when they were saying my name, they looked so  _ scared _ .

 

***

 

And that’s not the only thing that’s bothering me, I think the next day as we spar in the yard. Faking their orgasm is a first. I’ve learned their body like an instrument, whether we’re fighting or fucking or just in companionable space together. The way they slouch when they’re hurt, the sway of their body as they calculate their next move in a fight. I know the way they move during sex, and the way they’d moved last night - that wasn’t it. At  _ all _ .

 

_ Eight months change people _ , I think to myself as I duck under a blow and sweep up with my wooden sword, making them dodge back.  _ But the last thing I expected was for them to come home and then pretend to enjoy themselves. What is it? What’s wrong? _

 

I think back. We’d . . . talked, a lot, about their previous relationship. When they were sixteen to eighteen, they’d been in a toxic and abusive relationship. The boy, named Seth, was a Son of Svanir, who hid his identity and tried to groom them for sex. He’d violated them more than once; it’s the reason why the two of us never get up to anything rough, or even daring. Not that I mind. I take pleasure in their feelings. I want them to feel safe and loved and reassured when they’re with me. I want them to feel confident, and good, and whole . . .

 

. . . which is why it’s such a concern when they’re not just feeling  _ bad _ , but are actively  _ hiding it _ . What’s going on? We’re usually good at communicating, or so I thought. Either I’m going mad, or something happened while they were gone. Something that made them change the way they responded to pleasure . . . or else something that changed them fundamentally. I already know that they’ve found a new balance to their fighting, a new branch. Their stance is different, and they move faster than before. The sparks of before aren’t flying from them, but they’re quick, and I’m nearly driven into a corner before I realize it, and then pinned by their practice blade. I nearly leap back into the wall as they come forward . . .

 

. . . and kiss my cheek.

 

“You’re either slowing down, or distracted,” they tease with a light smile on their face. At least today, they seem in better spirits, though I hardly know if it’s because they actually feel better, or because they’re doing a better job at hiding themselves. It’s a switch, indeed - from the day before to last night to today. They seem so different from the norn who broke the Fang of Jormag less than twenty-four hours ago - and even more different from the norn who’d laid in my bed and lied with their body.

 

Still, I shake myself out of my thoughts and smile at them. “Perhaps I’m out of practice,” I say with a purr, as I stand to my full height and step forward to hold their hand. “I’m afraid I haven’t had a sparring partner for several months. You, however, seem to be in perfect shape.”

 

“I missed being out in the wild, and fending for myself. I’ve grown stronger. And I’ve gotten a few tricks up my sleeve since I left,” They admit with a smile. I open my mouth - ready to ask them more about these ‘tricks’ - when I suddenly hear Garm barking from the front of the house. The two of us look at each other. Either he’s missing the fight, or . . .

 

We double back around to the front of the yard. When we get there, we see Skarti kneeling down and petting Garm around the ears.

 

“Hail, Skarti,” I say, curious as we walk up to him and I lean against my practice sword. “What can I help you with today?”

 

“Hail, Eir. And- hail, Breaker,” he nods to me, then Alexei. “Unfortunately, I have some news for Alex. Bad news.”

 

“Bad news?” Alexei draws their brow and frowns. “What is it?”

 

“Somebody at the Lodge is challenging your title as Breaker.”

 

I start. Then, the fury kicks in. “What?” my voice is harsher to my ears than even I expect. “They broke the Fang. There were witnesses! How can somebody challenge that?”

 

“That’s a great question, Eir,” Skarti says. He seems to be avoiding my eyes - I can’t figure out why. He looks to Alex, instead. “He’s insisting that he see you, and that he be allowed a duel. He’s saying that he should’ve been the one to break the Fang, and that if he beats you, then he deserves the title of Breaker.”

 

Alexei draws their brow. They look worried. “Who is it, that’s saying all of this?”

 

Skarti goes silent. He’s still avoiding my gaze, and looking at the snow underfoot. I reach out and take his shoulder. Still, he’s quiet.

 

“Skarti,” I say. “Tell them, or we’ll go find out ourselves.”

 

“. . . a boy named Braham Eirsson.”

 

My jaw falls open. And my eyes go wide - every fiber of me seems to be in shock. I haven’t heard that name in ages. Too long . . . and now here it is, in the same breath as a challenger to Alexei’s rightful title.

 

Alex. They don’t  _ know _ .

 

I turn around to see Alexei staring at Skarti in confusion. They tilt their head to one side. “‘Eirsson’?”

 

I grab them and take a few steps back with them, pulling away from Skarti. He seems willing to stay back. I meet their eyes, and then awkwardly drop my gaze. “I- . . . I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I say awkwardly. “So much has been going on . . . and it was another lifetime, but . . .”

 

“Eir, is this kid your  _ son _ ?”

 

“I- . . . yes. I gave birth to him, at least. I never raised him past a few months. He’s been raised by his father; a reasonable man, but if Braham’s challenging you . . .” I bite my lower lip. Alexei seems confused for a long moment, one that makes my heart nearly stop . . . but they relax.

 

“I . . . guess it makes sense,” they say. “You just never thought about bringing it up?”

 

“There never seemed to be a good time,” I admit. “Though, what makes sense? How do you mean?”

 

“You’ve got stretch marks on your belly - light ones, but they’re still there. I know your body well enough to see them,” they give a nervous chuckle as they stuff their hands in their pockets. “I sorta . . . well, it makes sense now, in context. Anyway. In that case, what do we do? I can’t exactly . . .”

 

“You can’t turn him down. He’ll take it as special favor, or as offense, or . . .” I sigh. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in years. He’s only fifteen or sixteen - and already, he’s making challenges. He’s a brave one, for sure.”

 

“So,” they say, “I’m to go and fight him as I would any other norn . . . except keeping in mind that he’s your kid. I’m a little hesitant about banging him up, knowing that.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. He made the challenge. He’ll have to reap the consequences of those actions. And I trust that you won’t hurt him too badly. I just . . .” I sigh. “There’s a ten-year difference between the two of you. I can’t imagine that he’ll win, unless he’s been as active as you’ve been in such a short period of time.”

 

“Spirits damn this all. I don’t want to beat up a kid. Not over titles. They’re not worth it..”

 

“But you wear them proudly.”

 

They frown. “That was a different time. A lifetime ago. Now I just...resent them.” I want to fight them on it, but they turn and gesture Skarti back over. “I’ll go,” they say. “Give me half an hour to change into something more presentable for a fight, and I’ll meet him in front of the Fang.”

 

“I understand,” he nods, and finally gives an apologetic look to me. “I’m sorry. Both of you.”

 

“You’ve done nothing that needs an apology, Skarti,” I tell him. “Go swiftly.”

 

Skarti nods, and turns to leave. Alexei goes back into the lodge with me, and immediately starts picking up the complicated robes and fabrics they’d been wearing the last day from off the floor. I stand back, and lean against the wall.

 

“That’s an interesting set of armor, but not the set you were wearing when you left. Where did you get it?”

 

“Actually,” they say, looking to me with cheeks blushing, “I got it from the kodan.”

 

“The kodan?”

 

“It’s a really, really long story. And not one we have the time for,” they say as they turn away and focus on getting out of their casual wear and into the garb. I raise a brow. More secrets. When did we have secrets from each other?

 

_ Then again _ , I think with a sigh,  _ I kept my affections for them secret for quite some time. And about Braham. _ Though I wonder, now, if those secrets are even comparable.

 

***

 

The Lodge is broken up into many floors and half-floors. I enter ahead of Alexei, and make my way into the floor looking just above the fang. I hope it means I won’t be seen, so as not to influence the fight, but it makes me nervous all the same. Benches have been turned around to face the Fang, now, and I take a seat at one of them. The fang is as it was before - broken, now, the bottom half of it scarred and marked up, with chunks of almost glass-like tooth littering the floor.

 

On the platform, sitting on the stairs, is a man.

 

No - not quite a man. Younger, still not fully grown into his boots. But he’s instantly recognizable. He has the warm skin of his father, and my red hair. He has one side shaved off, and the other long. I can’t see his face, but I can hear him muttering to himself. It’s easy to hear what happens down there from here, even despite the distance. The acoustics of the Lodge are excellent, as is typical.  _ Amplify every noise for a good moot _ , I think.

 

I look to the lodge doors. Alexei is walking in, just like they did yesterday, but now the cowl is lowered from their face. They walk down the steps and stop just across from the Fang. Braham is getting up, and stretching his shoulders out. They’re broad - again, like his father’s. The only way you could tell I’m his mother is through the red of his hair.

 

“ _ You’re _ the Breaker?” he asks. Alexei nods. He crosses his arms. “I have to admit, I was expecting different. When they called you a Slayer-”

 

“That’s an old title,” they say. They look tense. I lean forward, and watch them. They continue. “Braham Eirsson. Why would you challenge me? I think it’s pretty obvious what happened here.”

 

“I’m challenging your worthiness,” he says, bold. “The Fang hasn’t been broken for hundreds of years. What makes you so special, that you were able to break it?”

 

“Nothing. Just a lot of hard work,” they throw up their hands, then drop them back to their sides. “I went out into the world. I fought. I forged my own axes, and I put in the time. I don’t know why it was me that finally achieved it. Lots of others have tried. I was simply the exception.”

 

I hear a growl. “That’s not good enough,” he says. “If there’s nothing special about you, then how were you able to leave such a mark on it? Either your lying, or you’re not the sort of person who should’ve broken it!”

 

“. . . maybe I’m not,” they say. I can hear the weariness in their voice. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. What happened, happened. There were witnesses. A Son of Svanir even tried to stab me over it. If you want the details, just ask Knut. He’ll tell you everything you want to know. Everything about the Fang, and about me.”

 

This is strange. Alexei, acting modest?  _ It doesn’t seem like an act _ , I think. And they look tired. I thought they’d slept last night, but maybe I was wrong. They don’t look well, from this distance. And Braham seems to agree, as his hands fist and he glares at them.

 

Finally, though, he’s grabbing for his weapons. A mace, and a shield. “I’m challenging you to a duel,” he says. “If you’re half the norn who broke this Fang, then you’ll step up and fight me.”

 

“Very well. I accept. But I’m only doing this once, and it’s not gonna be my fault if you get hurt.” They pull out their axes. “Brace yourself, Braham.”

 

I can see the two of them sizing each other up. Braham’s stance is shaky - not nearly as stable as it should be. Alexei’s, meanwhile, is as new and fluid as I noticed earlier today. They look almost sleek. Like all of their movements have smoothed out and simplified.

 

Braham lunges first with a war cry. Alexei ducks out of the way, and knocks him forward as he stumbles. Braham hits the floor, and gets up with a glare to them. He lunges again. Alexei brings up their axe to block his blow. He bashes forward with his shield, and they dodge back with quick steps. It’s like that over and over again: his assault, their retreat. They lift their axe a couple of times to test his defense, but that, at least, is rock solid - for now. When he raises his shield, at one point, I can see it glows blue.

 

_ Another guardian _ , I think. But as good as his defense is, his offense is shoddy, and slow. Not bad for an average fighter, but this is Alexei. They’re fast on their feet, and know how to take hits. Even for the brief glow of blue that sometimes emanates, they don’t need much help defending themselves. And what’s more, they won’t  _ attack _ . I know what they’re doing, and it almost hurts to see. They’re waiting for him to wear himself out. They have plenty of energy to spare, if only he’d just get tired and give up.

 

Braham seems to realize it too. He dives at them again, and this time they just step back and let him fall to his knees. He looks up and glares at them.

 

“Don’t you dare mock me!” he shouts. He gets back to his feet. Alexei seems so stern, their words quiet.

 

“. . .mock . . .?”

 

Suddenly, there’s sparks. They shoot forward and slam their axes into his shield, knocking him off-balance. They chase after him, axes swinging as they force him back across the floor. Braham tries to match them, but his speed can barely rival. They break his guardian shield, suddenly, and catch him across the temple with the back-part of their axe. He jerks back as blood drips from his temple, and they finally level a kick to his chest.

 

He falls back against the Fang. He struggles to get up-

 

-and they have their axe to his neck.

 

The Lodge is silent - everybody must’ve been watching. Alexei pulls back, and drops their axes into the holsters at their hips.

 

“You have a lot to learn.”

 

A pause.

 

“You’re still young, Braham. I can tell, you’ll be a great fighter someday - but you have to put in the time and effort, first. Getting the idea of what other fighters are like is a great idea, but there are people out there -  _ norn _ out there - who aren’t nearly as forgiving as me. So find the people in your circle who are willing to guide you, and ask them for it. Learn.  _ That _ is how you’ll become a person worthy of the title of ‘Breaker’, if there’s even anybody worthy of it to begin with.”

 

They rest their hands on the handles of their axes, and turn to leave.

 

“Who are you?! What are your names!”

 

He barks it out as they try to go. They turn back to him, and frown.

 

“I’m not one for titles anymore, but fine, here goes: I’m the Slayer of Issormir. Lightbringer. Hero of Lion’s Arch. Pact Commander over Zhaitan. Walker to the Dawn. And, now, I’m the Breaker of Jormag. I’ve faced worse than you, Braham, much worse than you could even imagine. I’ve even faced a dragon - and won. So don’t take it as bragging when I tell you that I’m prepared to defend myself and my titles, no matter how frivolous they seem to be.”

 

They stare at each other for long moments. He seems frustrated, and rash. And, finally, he says it.

 

“I’m Eir Stegalkin’s son.”

 

They hum.

 

“I know. I was her squire. As if this wasn’t awkward enough.”

 

His eyes go wide. Alexei sighs, and steps closer. Braham goes tense, expecting more . . . but they simply kneel down, and start looking through the rubble of the Fang.

 

“I wanted to find some little pieces of this. Something a jeweler could work with.”

 

He seems utterly flabbergasted. Finally, he reels up, mace and shield still in his hand. He stomps away, and out of the Lodge. I look after him and sigh. I dearly hope he isn’t going to do something rash - he seems like just the type to do something foolish and hot-headed.

 

I hear somebody say my name. I look down to where Alexei’s standing, holding up two small pieces of the fang.

 

“Pendants?” they ask. I give a light, if brief chuckle. I finally stand, and go down to join them.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry for embarrassing him, Eir.”

 

“It’s alright. I think you gave him some good advice, at least. The question will be if he can see it.”

 

Alexei shrugs as we walk towards the gates of the steading. “Hopefully he’ll have the chance to take that advice. I know that’s what I needed when I was younger: a circle of people who were willing to teach me. Instead, I got a sister and . . . and the wilderness. Not an ideal way to learn.”

 

“You had to learn on the fly. It’s a different way of learning, not necessarily a bad way.”

 

“Yeah, but boy, would I relish the opportunities that some other norn have.”

 

“Like some strong role models,” I elbow their side.

 

They elbow me back with a weak smile (why are all their smiles weak?). “I had one,” they say. “You.”

 

I chuckle. We’ve reached the gates now, and I go to pull out my keys. I reach forward to put them in the lock-

 

\- only to find the lock’s already undone.

 

“. . . I locked it behind us, didn’t I?”

 

“Um. Yeah,” Alexei seems to get what I mean. “You did.”

 

We look at each other, confused. Then, we hear Garm barking, loudly. Both of us go tense, and lunge for the gates. We quickly run into the steading, confused, trying to figure out who’s broken in and why-

 

“Whoa! Hey, hey there, it’s okay-!”

 

It’s  _ Braham _ . Standing back, hands up, as Garm positively  _ growls _ at him. I rush up, confident, commanding.

 

“Garm! That’s  _ enough _ !”

 

Garm backs down. He curls back, and then walks to the entrance of the lodge. That, at least, is still locked, though my heart is pounding, seeing that Braham has  _ broken into my home _ . He seems embarrassed, or at least still surprised. He stares at me openly.

 

“E . . . Eir?”

 

Hearing it out of his mouth makes me want to recoil. He stares at me a moment longer. Then, his eyes fall on something behind me. His expression creases into anger.

 

“ _ You _ -”

 

“I’m not your enemy,” I hear Alexei say as they step up beside me. “But now you’ve broken and entered into our home. What are you  _ doing _ here?”

 

“I . . . I was hoping to surprise her. I thought, as her son-” He stops. His expression creases into confusion. “What do you mean ‘ _ our _ home’?”

 

I sigh, and push the hair out of my face. I step forward and towards him. “Braham,” I say. “I heard you were in the city.” I decide not to mention that I’d watched the fight.

 

“I wanted to see you,” he says. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“And that is?”

 

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ve gotten a little bit of training in from my father, and from the people of Cragstead. But I haven’t met anybody yet who has the sort of history and legend that you have. If I could learn from anybody . . . I’d love to learn from you.”

 

“I can’t. I have too much to do here in Hoelbrak, and against the dragons. I can refer you to some teachers who I think you may benefit from, but that’s all I can do.”

 

“Why? You could teach them!”

 

Braham points to them in the kitchen. Alexei hasn’t been partaking in the conversation at all. They’ve been in the kitchen, facing the window, hands braced against the counter and head down. I can almost sense the weariness off of their form. They seem shaken and conflicted, as if this was their fault.  _ They suggested that he find mentors _ , I think,  _ But I’m not sure they anticipated for him to try and seek me out like this _ .

 

I sigh. “Times change,” I tell him. “Alexei was an apprentice I took on when things were very different. Now, I have a whole culture to lead towards Jormag, and my partner to look after. I simply don’t have the time to teach somebody new.”

 

“You want to fight Jormag?” He asks. He thumbs at his chest. “I want to fight him, too. There have been so many Icebrood attacks on Cragstead - that’s why I originally came here. I wanted to convince Knut to send people to protect them, but he’s been stubborn, and hasn’t done anything. I want Jormag dead as much as you. Why don’t I help you, and you can teach me along the way?”

 

“It’s more complicated than-” I put a hand to my temple and try to collect my thoughts. “I’m sorry to hear about what’s happening in Cragstead. I truly am. I’ll speak with Knut, and make sure you get the people you need. But my next steps are immensely personal. I can’t make room in them. I’m sorry.”

 

He looks frustrated. I can only imagine why. It’s been almost sixteen years since we last met. He was a baby when I left him and his father. Which reminds me.

 

“What about asking your father?” I ask. “Borje’s a legendary warrior, much like me. Perhaps his legend isn’t as well-known, but he’s still immensely capable. I’m sure there’s much more you could learn from him, if you only ask.”

 

His brow furrows. He seems angry. “You don’t  _ know _ ? Didn’t anybody tell you?”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“My father died, nine years ago.”

 

I put a hand to my chest. Borje is . . . dead? “I . . . I’m so sorry,” I tell him, startled. “I hadn’t- no. I’d thought . . .”

 

“He died from his injuries fighting Icebrood. I’ve been staying with my two surrogate mothers ever since,” he frowns. “Nobody told you?”

 

“No. I . . . Borje and I were good friends. We fell out of communication shortly before I left adventuring, but even so . . .” I sigh. “I must’ve missed the news . . . or else I wasn’t told. I’m truly shocked, to think a man like him would be . . .”

 

Braham shakes his head. I can tell he has a good heart about him - thinking about his father and his village. But the two of us are so distant, we’re practically strangers. I can’t think of how I would teach him, with . . . with this weight hanging between us. It’s a complicated mess of a thing.

 

“If . . .” he starts. He doesn’t seem to know how to ask it. He finally forces it out. “If you can’t teach me . . . who can?”

 

He’s left his hand lying on the table. I’m not sure if it’s a reassuring move - maybe more awkward than I mean - but I lean forward, and pat his hand.

 

“I have a friend here in Hoelbrak, named Eden Carter. They’re a guardian who could teach you. They’re a little awkward, but perfectly able, and a good person at heart. I can ask them to go to Cragstead with you.”

 

He frowns. “I’m not leaving without aid for my people secured.”

 

“I’ll absolutely go down to the Lodge tomorrow and speak with Knut.”

 

That, at least, seems to satisfy him. He slowly nods. “Alright. I . . . I’ll trust your judgement. And, uh. I’ll try to learn from them.”

 

I smile. “They’re a wonderful teacher. You’ll get along well.”

 

“I . . . I hope so.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “Err. Sorry for breaking into your steading. I guess that was kinda . . . dumb.”

 

“No worries, Braham. I’ve had worse people try. Do you need a hand returning to the Great Lodge?”

 

“No. I can go back on my own,” He stands, and grabs his weapons. “Thanks for talking to me, Eir. I guess I’ll see you around?”

 

“Yes; I’ll find you when I have everything arranged.”

 

We stand and stare at each other for a long moment. Slowly, he’s nodding, and I’m looking away with a nervous hum. But finally, he nods, and leaves at last. Garm hops up and follows him out - probably to make sure he doesn’t try any funny business, though I trust him not to do something so foolish again. I sigh, and look back to Alexei.

 

They haven’t moved from their place in the kitchen. They seem so tense, what with the scare to our security. I step over to them and put my arm around their shoulders. “Are you alright?” I ask. They lean into me, and hum. They’re shivering.

 

“I don’t know yet. Still spooked.”

 

“It was rather . . . presumptuous of him to just break in.”

 

“We need a better lock. And more security. I bet there are cameras we could get in Lion’s Arch.”

 

“That seems unnecessary. In all my years living here, I’ve never had an intruder I couldn’t deal with.”

 

“We don’t want to get taken by surprise. Or . . . or tricked. A more secure lock, and I’ll feel better. That, or . . . or . . .”

 

I gently reach for their jaw and turn their face to mine. My voice is soft. “Or what, love?”

 

“. . . or nothing,” they say, eyes slowly focusing on mine. Theirs are so green, warm and amberish, like summer leaves and pine needles. I lean in and press my mouth to theirs. They sight into me, and their eyes flutter closed. They’re eager, mouth opening under mine, body pressing closer. Their hands find my waist, and slowly turn me so my back’s to the counter.

 

I shiver as their hands come down to my greaves, and one slips under my waistband. Their fingers suddenly find my clit, and I gasp into their mouth. They pull back and grin coyly at me. Their fingers are deft, pressing and twisting against the bud of my clit, making my eyes fall shut and my head fall back. Their lips come to the column of my throat, and I moan openly as they trace kisses over and down my pulse, and mouth words against my skin.

 

“T-Too easy . . .” I moan, frustrated at how simply they could take me apart. I reach for them and try to slip a hand against their belly, but their free hand quickly grabs my wrist and removes it. They suddenly slip down to their knees and drag my greaves down with them. Their hands are pushing my legs apart, and exposing me to the cool air of the room. It isn’t long before they’re leaning forward, taking in the scent of me and pressing their lips to my inner thigh.

 

My hand reaches down and tangles into their hair. All I can watch is their lips. “Love, you don’t have- you don’t- ahh-  _ ahh _ ,” I moan as their lips come to my clit, and press around it. I can feel it - the teasing slide of their tongue against my clit, dragging around it, teasing it with gentle suckling that makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. Meanwhile, they look up at me, with those damn hooded eyes. It feels like I’m falling into them. There’s a string of saliva at the corner of my mouth, and I lick my lips; their eyes seem to get wider. I can feel their breath against me falter. They simply close their eyes and press closer, leaving a determined bite to my clit.

 

I throw my head back and grip their hair in both hands. I’m pulling on it, probably near the point of pain, but their mouth is moving down, and their tongue lapping at my slit. I try to cry something out, something about them slowing down, but they don’t waste a moment before running their tongue up and down my slit. I’m so wet. I can feel their fingers coming up, gently tugging my lips apart, before two of them sink into the open heat of me. I double over and look down at them again, gasping, knees locked, body shaking.

 

“Oh, Alex, whatever you’re doing, don’t  _ stah _ . . .!” I shudder and nearly go slack as their fingers curl inside of me hard enough to bruise. They’re pulling back. Their hands find my hips and slowly help lower me to the floor. I sit back against the cupboards as they squirm down onto their belly and continue, their mouth on my clit, their fingers sliding inside of me so nicely I don’t even know how to think.

 

There’s so much going on - I’m clawing at them, pulling at their hair, grabbing for their back. They just moan and prod at my clit further. The tip of their tongue, then the full width of it, leaving attention against it with their hot mouth on me. I shake and shudder. I’m doubling over again, then back, shoulders slamming into the cupboards, hips shoving back against their face. Their fingers are curling so violently, and my toes curl, and I reach up and grab the counter to try and ground myself, even though it’s so impossible-

 

“Alex,  _ Alex _ , Alexei please, Ale-!”

 

I gasp and go entirely tense, back arched away from the cupboards as I finally succumb. A wailing noise escapes my throat and spills out over my lips. I writhe, and my hands find their hair again and  _ pull _ . I can hear their whimpering, yet I can barely make myself calm down, twisting and turning. I feel them pull their mouth back until it’s back to my pulse, and it’s their fingers curling in my body, and their thumb against my bud, and I’m crying out and shaking and feeling so weak I’m not even sure I could stand if I  _ wanted _ to.

 

_ Alex _ . And they’re there, kissing my cheek, legs curling underneath them as they press against my body and pull their hand free. I’m calming down, but barely; they wrap arms around me and rest their head on my shoulders as I try to recover. My breath is so heavy, and I can barely think . . . my mind is still racing.

 

“Love? Are you alright?”

 

Their voice is so breathy. I turn my head towards them and kiss their hair. I whimper something of a confirmation for them.

 

“Good,” their arms tighten around my back. “I was worried . . .”

 

_ Worried about what? _ I wonder. They seem so morose now. And they’d moved my hand away when I’d tried to reciprocate, too - I wonder if they’d let me touch now. I press my hand to their hip, barely touching at their waistband, but their hand finds it and pulls it away. I can’t help but speak, for as weak as my voice is.

 

“Why?”

 

“I . . .”

 

They pull back, slowly. They look so, so tired. The bags under their eyes are all too obvious, and there seems to be strain in them that’s more than just from the duel earlier in the day. I can tell they’re trying to cover it up. They just smile, and try to make their expression more animated than usual. “I’m okay, Eir,” they say. “Just not in the mood, right now.”

 

Not in the mood? When just moments ago, they’d been tonguing me open, and almost brutally taking me apart? And it seems like their body’s telling a different story - a blush high on their cheeks, and disappearing into their cowl. I know that full-body blush, enjoy it. Why are they hiding it?

 

All I can do is take them at their word. I smile, and bring my hand to their hair. “Okay,” I say. “You look so exhausted, though. Maybe you should lie down, love.”

 

“Only if you came with me,” they challenge. I chuckle lightly, and bring them back to my chest.

 

“I can think of a worse way to spend an afternoon.”

 

I can’t. Stop. Worrying.

 

***

Trahearne and the Interim Commander come around to Hoelbrak once every two months. The two of them are busy, of course, but I always lend them my guest lodge while they’re in the city. The two of them spend time recruiting, investigating, helping with local nuisances - it’s rather helpful, for them to be on call sometimes. And it doesn’t help that both of them are exceedingly bright.

 

The Interim Commander is a . . . curious one. A severe woman, human, with a strange distaste for her own kind. Veradisia is her name - plenty adept at her post, and a good choice (so I think) for acting position. The two of us haven’t interacted much, but I remember her, from when she reported to Trahearne and Alexei and I. She’d been a foot soldier in the war against Zhaitan, and a bright one. She’d led the ground assault on Arah. And she was a revenant to boot, as well. For as much as I try to like her, something about her makes me feel . . .  _ off _ . I’m not sure what it is, but regardless, I’m plenty kind to her, and in return, she graces me with tales from the Pact.

 

When they turn up in Hoelbrak a week later, I meet them at the Asura gate and help walk them to my home. It’s not a long walk, but plenty enough for the both of them. Bundled as they are, they look like they’re freezing.

 

“Jormag needs to return your summers,” Trahearne tells me with a chuckle.

 

“Or else you two need thicker coats,” I suggest. “I know a leatherworker in the city. I’ll have them draw up some designs for the two of you and get them ready before you leave.”

 

“You don’t need to fuss over us,” Veradisia tells me. I laugh.

 

“You’re my guests. I’ll fuss over the both of you plenty.”

 

We make it to the steading and step inside of the gates. Garm, as always, is happy to see Trahearne - rushing up and barking, circling around him, looking for treats. Trahearne laughs, and plays with Garm, letting him try to divest him of all the hidden jerky with a smile. Veradisia isn’t nearly as interested. She goes inside the main lodge while I try to convince Garm not to outright tackle the poor Pact Marshal.

 

Alexei greets the two of them with a smile, as they balance cooking lunch in the kitchen. I go in and quickly take the pots and pans from them so they rush over to Trahearne and kneel down, giving him a hug. “It’s been ages,” they say. “How have you been?”

 

“Busy. But it’s always good to see you in good spirits, friend. How was the Frostgorge Sound?”

 

“Y’know, cold. But still fascinating. It’s a beautiful landscape, if only it weren’t so frigid,” they joke. He laughs.

 

(That’s all they’d ever told me about it, either.)

 

“I’m excited for the day I’ll be positioned there,” Veradisia says from the table, “But that day isn’t today. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Commander.”

 

“Ah . . . yeah. It’s good to see you as well, Veradisia,” Alexei stands back to their full height. I can tell, they’re struggling to keep the smile on their face. I finish settling everything in the kitchen, and walk over to them. I give them my hand.

 

“We should all sit,” I say. “Lunch will be done shortly.”

 

Everybody gets seated, and lunch is brought to the table. It’s nothing exceedingly fancy - just a simple stew, with some bread Alexei had baked earlier in the day - but it’s enough. Trahearne enjoys it thoroughly, sending appreciative smiles to both Alex and I. Veradisia eats it willingly, and with her thanks. Alexei eats so  _ slowly _ . It’s all they’ve done for the last week, is eat sluggishly, or else simply  _ pick _ at their food. If they were me, I would say they were in the throes of a depressive episode.

 

(I want to desperately hope I’m wrong.)

 

“How’s the Pact been?” I ask.

 

“We’ve been busy. Much of our focus has been investigating the dragons that are still asleep, and readying for the ones that may be waking up. Our estimations are that either Jormag or Mordremoth will awaken first, so we’re working very hard to find a foothold in their regions.”

 

“Which is hard enough, be it the chilling winter, or not even knowing where the dragon’s supposed to even be. It’s been a lot of work. Thankfully, we’re up to the task,” Veradisia says. Alexei nods, and blows on their stew to cool it down.

 

“I don’t know much about Mordremoth, but I do know about Jormag. The Sons of Svanir are as aggressive as ever, but the Icebrood are multiplying, almost incessantly. If he’s gonna wake up anytime soon, we need to be ready.”

 

“It’ll be hard to say,” I add in. “Though, having you as the Breaker will be a relief.”

 

“Breaker?” Trahearne asks. Alexei looks down at their stew.

 

“I broke the fang about a week ago, just as I was coming back. Lots of people are excited about it. I have two pieces of it that I’m getting turned into pendants right now.”

 

“How exciting! That’s a great boon for us all - including the Pact,” Trahearne smiles at them. “It’ll truly be nice to have you back with the Pact, Alex. We’ve all missed you.”

 

“. . . yeah,” they look away and shrug. “Whenever I come back. Veradisia, how do you like the work?”

 

“It’s a demanding position, but it ought to be. I’d be concerned if it wasn’t. As it is, though, there isn’t much to do at the moment. No battles to fight - so all’s been peaceful on the warfront. The most work has been in wrapping up the Risen on Orr.”

 

“How’s that going?” I ask. Trahearne nods to me.

 

“It’s been going swimmingly, thanks to some of your advice. And the land is becoming cleaner and crisper than ever. The reversal of its corruption is really coming along. I’d love to take the two of you to see it, when Alexei’s back on duty.”

 

“That’d be lovely,” I say, smiling. I look to Alex. They’re staring down blankly at their stew. “Love? What do you think?”

 

Silence. They aren’t answering, which has me worried enough. Veradisia carefully coughs into her fist.

 

“. . . well,” she says, trying to break the strange silence. “How have you two been? I heard you were married several months back.”

 

“Ah- yes. We got married after the war against Zhaitan. A small ceremony . . .” I carry on, and try to catch Alexei’s eye. “Alexei, sweetheart?”

 

“. . . huh?” they look up, like they’d been drifting off. “What are we talking about?”

 

“Are you alright, Alexei?” Trahearne asks with a frown. “You seem unwell.”

 

“Ah- no . . . I mean,” they shake their head furiously, like trying to awaken from a daze. “I’m sorry. I’m just awfully tired. I only returned in the last week. I- . . . you and I will have to discuss it later.”

 

They don’t seem to be saying what they mean. I explain further. “They’ve been adapting to being back home,” I explain for them. “It’s been quite the adjustment. But we’re all very happy to have them back. Hoelbrak felt like an empty place without them.”

 

“I’m sure it has! The two of you are remarkable lovers. I remember watching the two of you at Fort Trinity,” Trahearne chuckles. “You seem very happy with each other.”

 

“We are,” I smile, and reach out to touch their hand. “It’s a relief to have them back in my home.”

 

“We’re sure it is,” Veradisia gives a tight smile. “It’ll be a relief to have them back in the Pact-”

 

Something knocks to the floor. There’s a flurry of footsteps, then-

 

“I don’t want to go back to the Pact!”

 

I start. They’d gotten up and knocked over the chair in their haste; they’re standing back, shoulders hunched, body closing in on itself as they stare back at us with wide, scared eyes. Trahearne seems shocked, hardly able to say what he’s thinking. And Veradisia seems the same. There’s the wafting aroma of stew - I look to the floor. In their haste to retreat, they’d knocked their bowl onto the floor.

 

I look back to Alex, and slowly get to my feet. “Love?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

 

“. . . I-” they start. Their eyes dart back and forth between us all - me, then Trahearne, then Veradisia. They swallow, harsh. Their voice is shaking as much as their form. “I-I had no intention of coming back. N-Not- I-I mean-”

 

“What do you mean?” Trahearne also gets out of his seat. “You’d sounded ecstatic to return to the Pact, after your time away.”

 

“I- I changed my mind. I’m not- or, I shouldn’t-”

 

“Alexei?” I finally step closer, and touch their shoulder. “Are you alright?”

 

“. . . I don’t want to talk about this,” they suddenly blurt out. They look back to me, eyes wide, full of terror. “C-Can we not?”

 

“. . . this can wait until later,” Veradisia says. I look to her. She’s getting up, and smoothing out her skirts. “Trahearne and I should go get settled in the guest lodge. We can continue this conversation later.”

 

“Of course,” Trahearne nods in agreement. “This will be easier for us to digest once we’ve all rested. Tensions seem to be running high . . .”

 

“Ah- of course,” I nod, and gesture to the low table. “I left the key there. Feel free to settle in, just-” I stop, and look back to Alex. Their eyes seem hollow. “Are you okay, love?”

 

“Don’t call me that,” they say. Their voice is positively  _ shaking _ . “Please.”

 

I start back, surprised and a little hurt. I can hear Trahearne and Veradisia leaving. I step closer, and put the back of my hand to their forehead. They’re warm. I cup their jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re running a fever. You should lie down.”

 

They look away. Their eyes are watering. “I-” They gulp. “I w-wanna scratch off my skin.”

 

Now,  _ that _ was wrong. I wrap my arm around them and pull them closer. “Love,” I insist, “What’s going-”

  
There’s a  _ scream _ . And then fire burns across my face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!
> 
> Normally I don't do notes at the beginning of a chapter like this, but here's a big ol' TRIGGER WARNING for discussions of sexual assault. If that stuff makes you feel icky, no big deal! I'll summarize this chapter in the beginning of the next so you can keep up with the story.

They  _ slapped _ me.

 

I’m still so stunned that I can barely register that they’ve left my arms. In fact, all I can register is the pain in my face, the burning that signifies the mark they’d left. I reach up to my cheek and touch it. It hurts. I look down, and see them sprawled on the ground. They seem shocked, just as much as me.

 

Then, there are tears suddenly running down their face.

 

“O-Oh no . . .!”

 

They suddenly curl in and let out a wail. Hands coming up to their hair, gripping tight, pulling so hard I’m certain they’re to pull it out. I forget the pain in my face and fall to my knees, trying to pull their hands free, but they’re crying so hard it’s almost impossible. I manage to free their fingers, and then they’re trying to shove me back.

 

“Don’t  _ touch _ me-”

 

I try to move back, but they’re just grabbing for their arms and starting to dig in nails. I lurch forward and try to pull their hands free, but they just scream. I try calling their name, trying to reassure them, but they’re so lost to panic that they keep trying to shake me off.

 

Their fist slams into their eye. It looks like it hurts, and I finally grab their arms and pin them down, fast to their body. They cry out and writhe, but I hold them fast, arms trapped between their body and mine, keeping them from hurting anything else. They’re screaming, crying, and I press their face to my shoulder.

 

“Alexei, it’s me. It’s Eir. You’re safe, sweetheart, it’s me. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but whatever it is, it’s not real. It’s just me, sweetheart. It’s just-”

 

They finally stop struggling. They’re bawling at this point, senseless. We’re spread out on the floor,  and there’s the aroma of stew that’s spilled from the table, and Garm’s barking up a storm. But they’ve stopped fighting, stopped trying to hurt themselves - just lying against me, crying their eyes out, mourning something I don’t yet know.

 

I hold them. I hold them as tight as I can.

 

I don’t let go.

 

***

 

They’re reduced to whimpering. I’m holding them so tightly that it must hurt, keeping them to my chest and letting them cry into me. The world finally seems to be calming down, including my racing heart. Garm’s nosing at the both of us in confusion. I’m carding my fingers through their hair, trying to help them relax.

 

They’re sobbing something unintelligible into my chest. I loosen my grip just a little bit, and speak.

 

“What was that?”

 

They sniffle and whimper. “I’m so sorry,” They whisper, no longer fighting me. I run my fingers through their hair.

 

“You’re okay,” I tell them. “You’re safe. You’re still in the lodge. Are you- love, what  _ happened _ ?”

 

They’re silent. There are still tears spilling over their lashes, so big and pearly it seems a horrible coincidence. Their voice is so quiet.

 

“I . . . I guess I have to tell you.”

 

“Tell me what?” I ask.

 

They’re silent again. Their eyes close, and they sob, shaking.

 

Their voice is even tinier than before.

 

“Seth.”

 

_ What _ ? My hand stops in their hair. I don’t believe it. I don’t even understand.

 

“Darling, what about Se-”

 

“He isn’t dead,” they whimper. The tears are coming faster again. “He’s  _ alive _ . He has been, this entire time. He was- I-I had thought-”

 

“Sweetheart, you tore open his  _ head _ . How was he alive?”

 

“M-Mesmer. He used a c-clone.”

 

_ A mesmer _ . Tricky bastards, with their illusions - I nearly swear aloud. I realize, quietly, that we’re still laying on the floor. I manage to sit up, and pull them with me, so they’re half-lying against my body.

 

“Sweetheart,” I say, “I’m going to get you to the bed, okay?”

 

They whimper something I can’t make out - some kind of affirmation, or else a dismissal. Still, I wrap my arm under theirs, and help pull them to their feet. They’re shaking, but I pull them over to the bed, and help them lie down. I’m next to them the whole time, curling up at their side and clearing the hair from their face. Their eyes are still watery with tears. Their lower lip is trembling.

 

“Seth’s  _ alive _ ,” they whimper. I hold their cheek and shake.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask. “What happened?”

 

“It- I-I found out while I was in the Frostgorge Sound,” they sob. They curl further against me, head to my chest. I can barely make them out through the muffling. “I was too s-scared to say anything.”

 

“Why? You know I would never judge you.”

 

“Wh-What happened. It was . . . it was so  _ awful _ .”

 

“What happened to you?”

 

“. . . I was north,” They whimper. “Near the Pact base. Th-There was a young girl. A norn. She s-said that she had been separated from her parents, and I asked her to l-lead me to where she last saw them . . . b-but when we got there, she d-disappeared. It was a trick. Th-There were . . . were . . .”

 

“What were there?”

 

“ _ Sons _ . Sons of Svanir, w-waiting, and they knocked me out and took me to their camp and . . . and . . .”

 

Their voice is so weak. And they’re shivering. I look down to the end of the bed, and, carefully, I manage to kick up the covers to my hands, and pull them over the two of us. I look back down to Alex.

 

“What happened then?”

 

“. . . pain. So much of it. They . . . my ribs. A-And . . . so much. Everywhere. There was . . . a c-cell. And then there was . . . h-him.”

 

_ Seth _ . That bastard. I pull them closer as they continue.

 

“He p-pinned me to the wall. And h-he . . . he grabbed my throat. Choked me. I-I couldn’t  _ breathe _ , Eir, I was t-trying to pry his hand loose . . . his face was so c-close, he was spitting . . . he almost kissed me, his h-hand . . . h-he almost-!”

 

“If he fucking touched you,” I swear, “I’ll hunt him down to the ends of the Spirits-damned earth.”

 

“. . . n-no. He didn’t. He- under my w-waistband. My hip. H-He almost- he was so close. And then he l-let me go,” They sob, and curl closer. “He locked me in. Taunted me. There had been s-so many Sons watching . . . I was h-humiliated, a-a-and . . . and then I was angry. There were . . . e-embers. Sparks. And there wasn’t any more pain. I g-got up . . . I w-wrenched the bars of the cell aside . . .”

 

“You broke out of your cell?” I ask.  _ Stunning _ , I think. That must’ve been when they realized they could go berserk.

 

They’re sobbing, now, but I can still make out their words. “I k-k-killed the Sons. And I f-fought Seth. Th-Thought I’d killed him - ch-chopped his chest open? - b-b-but a few weeks later. There was, o-on a tree . . . ‘W-With Love, Always - Seth’. I vomited, so much-”

 

“Shhh,” I gently run my hand over their head. My other arm is holding them tight to my body. I quietly ask, “What happened then?”

 

“ . . .I r-ran. Th-There was a bl-blizzard? So much s-snow, I couldn’t see . . . I was s-screaming, crying, stumbling . . . the l-last thing I saw were kodan.”

 

“The kodan?” I ask. That was a surprise; kodan frequented the area, but to think they were helping Alex . . .

 

“Wh-When I woke up, I told them e-everything. They’d b-bandaged my sides. And they t-t-told me, they  _ told me _ , that I had to f-find balance again. That I had s-sullied myself. S-So they put me through healing, and t-training, to better learn how to defend myself, and h-h-how . . . h-how to use my b-berserk. Showed me how to f-forge my axes. B-by the time I had recovered enough to g-go home . . .”

 

My heart hurts.  _ Oh _ . No wonder they had taken so long to return . . . they’d been crippled, with the kodan. “When did the attack first happen?” I ask.

 

“D-Dunno. F-Five months in?” they pause. “I was j-just about to come home.”

 

“I see,” I pause as well. I hold them as close as I damn-near can. They’re still shaking like a leaf. I remember something, from the week before - when they’d been reciting their titles to Braham. “‘Walker to the Dawn’. Was that a name the kodan gave you?”

 

“N- _ no _ . G-Give . . . themselves names,” they press out. “I-I was . . . they said . . . t-to redefine me. A n-new name. To . . . to . . .”

 

“To rebirth from,” I finish.

 

“Yes,” they sob. “To be made anew.”

 

They’re so tense that I’m worried they’re hurt. And no wonder they hadn’t told me anything; the shame that radiates off of them is immense. They sound so . . . so tortured. And they had been: tortured by the Sons of Svanir, and then by Seth. Just thinking of his name, I want to go out there and find him, and strangle him to death. How  _ could _ he? What man could be so monstrous as to assault somebody? And my dear Alexei, at that?!

 

Alexei’s still sobbing weakly. I pull them closer and try to think. They’re still reeling - hurt. And unstable, now, and most likely had been since they even came home - weaving strangely between melancholy and numbness.  _ How much of this had they been hiding? _ I think about the sex we’d tried to have, the little they’d eaten, the way they’d refused their titles and hid from the world. So many signs that I’d noticed were there, and tried to confront them about - and they’d just blew me away.

 

They’re  _ ashamed _ .

 

. . . I hate it, that they feel so  _ ashamed _ .

 

Something has to be done for them. I’m only one woman, and of all the knowledge I have, there’s so, so little I know about how to help somebody heal from assault. I’ve never been in that position - luckily. But now they need aid, something I have to provide, as their wife. There has to be something we can do.  _ Something _ . . .

 

The lodges. They’re an acolyte of Snow Leopard. And the priestesses know about Alexei’s history already. If anybody was going to be able to help - they could.

 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I promise them.  _ And at the end of the day _ , I think,  _ I’ll hunt down the monster who did this, and gut him _ .

 

***

It’s evening when I finally convince them to come to Snow Leopard’s Lodge with me. Sometime between the meltdown and then, they’d shed their clothes - all they told me was that they felt “unclean”, and wanted to go into our baths and hide. But they didn’t. They laid in bed with me, and huddled against me, and cried.

 

They refuse to put on clothes, so I pull the furs around them and pack a long tunic, in case later they change their mind. We inform Trahearne and Veradisia of our whereabouts, but we tell them no more. We go in the darkness of evening, and I keep them fast to my side as we quickly make our way to the lodge.

 

The moment we step inside, the priestesses turn to us. They seem to know.

 

“Eir Stegalkin?” the havroun, Cecile, asks. I remember her well - she was at our wedding, months ago. Her eyes are closed, blinded to the physical realm, but she sees the Mists - our spirits - more easily. She steps forward, and beckons for a priestess to join her side. “Thank you for bringing them, Eir. We can help them here.”

 

“You know?” I ask. I pull them closer to my side. They shudder, but they don’t move from my grip. Cecile gives me a soft smile.

 

“The Spirits told me somebody of importance would be by tonight, and I’m familiar with Alexei.”

 

Alexei slowly pulls us towards Cecile. At this point, the bruise they’d hit into their face is blossomed into a black and blue banner, circling their eye. And their hair’s in disarray from them pulling on it. Even the scarring on the left side of their head looks nasty and unhealed. Their words are quiet.

 

“The baths?”

 

“Of course. They’re always open if you’d like them.”

 

“. . . okay. Just- please. I want Eir to be with me.”

 

“Always. Come with me, you two.”

 

Cecile and her priestess lead us to a backroom with a pool of water in it, with stairs leading down. It’s lit with torches hanging on the walls, and the light bounces off the water in startling scarlet reflections. Alexei quietly pulls the blanket from off their shoulders, and takes the hand of the priestess. The priestess helps lead them to the stairs, and watches them walk down into the water.

 

I stand back with Cecile and watch. “What is this?” I ask her.

 

“Alexei’s performing a ritual cleansing. We do it for many of Snow Leopard’s students, and we’ve done it for Alexei before. I imagine you’ve heard for their history.”

 

“I’m well aware that they have a history of rape, and came here to dispel it.” I watch Alexei take a deep breath, standing in the middle of the pool, and then dunk their head under water.

 

“The baths allow for the participant to cleanse themselves from a state of uncleanliness. We don’t define what that is here at the lodge - Snow Leopard isn’t much for the matter of clean or unclean - but many women will do it following their menses, after childbirth, or - in Alexei’s case - following assault. It’s also used as a marker of life changes .We saw Alexei here shortly before the two of you married.”

 

“I didn’t know,” I say, slightly surprised. “We do something similar at Wolf’s Lodge, but more in groups of people. Not water, but a spiritual cleansing similar, and praising the Four Directions.” They’ve come up for air, but only briefly. They’re saying words I can’t hear. They dunk under again. “What are they saying?”

 

“Intention, or vows. What they hope to achieve from the cleansing,” Cecile stands back, and faces the scene with me. She must be looking with her inner sight, through the Mists. “They came here many times when they were younger, for counselling and cleansing. It seems to give them a lot of comfort. They have some different traditions, but we’re perfectly willing to tolerate other practices, of course. Snow Leopard has many acolytes, and many practices.”

 

“Practices that will have been passed down to them from Romke, I imagine,” I mutter under my breath. They come up for air, hair spraying back, lungs pulling in air. I hear them say their vow again. They go under.

 

“Though they may not seem it on the surface, Alexei is a deeply spiritual individual. Their first encounter with Snow Leopard changed their life, and they began on a path of solitude and individuality from that very day. They were never given an easy path to follow, or teachings from a steady hand. Leopard has led them into challenges - challenges they’ve had to overcome.”

 

“And they think they have to do it all alone,” I muse. “They didn’t tell me for days what had happened to them. I think it’s a mixture of shame, and a strong sense that they must fight alone. I’ve never had that mentality. I’ve always known that I’ve belonged at the sides of others. In that sense, the two of us are very different people.”

 

Cecile chuckles. “But the two of you are still so very alike,” she says. I watch Alexei come up for air. I can hear part of their vow.

 

“-from touch, from slander, from poison-”

 

They duck under the water again. I lean closer to Cecile. “Is that a typical ritual phrase?”

 

“No; they change their vow every time they come. But it’s all generally the same. Freeing from unwanted contact, and the poison from an attacker’s body.”

 

“So it’s about escaping from their assaults.”

 

“Yes.”

 

I hear the priestess ask something, when Alexei comes up for air again. They shake their head, and repeat their vow. When they dip back under, I can see their body undulate, distorted by the ripples of the water.

 

“How long will they be at this?” I ask.

 

Cecile sighs. “It could be hours. There have been times we’ve had to force them out, so that others could take their turn.”

 

“They’re exhausted, Cecile!”

 

“If they do not pull themselves out in half an hour, then we will extract them. But if they’re so tired, then they should finish rather quickly.” She turns away from me, and to the door. “I’ll get a towel for them, and some tea. The two of you can have the privacy of this room until they’ve finished.”

 

Cecile gestures to the priestess, and the two of them leave. I sink down and sit on the tiled floors of the bath as I watch Alexei repeat their task. One dunk, then two, then three. Each time with their chosen phrase repeated, over and over again. They seem fixated, focused, obsessed. I suppose I can’t blame them - after what they’ve been through . . .

 

Hoelbrak, as a community, has a certain ritual of its own when it comes to people who commit offenses against others like Seth had against Alexei. The victim is always asked to come forward, and present their case. Then, the offender gets to plead their case. In the case that the offender is found to be guilty - which is regularly, given that our tolerance for that sort of action is far above human, or even charr standards - the offender is forced into humiliation, stripping down to their underthings, and in many cases, forced to aid the victim into moving to a new lodge in town. And then they are cast out of Hoelbrak, never to return - forced to live on the outskirts of the city, or in the Dredgehaunt Cliffs. That has been the tradition since Knut Whitebear took leadership of our people, and we’ve rarely had problems.

 

But Alexei’s case is different. They can’t simply plead their case - they can’t accuse anybody. The man who hurt them isn’t a part of normal society; he’s a Son of Svanir, already an outcast, and willingly-so. They don’t have anybody they can take the problem against. All they have is the support of their community, and no way to gain vengeance for the honor and safety of their body.

 

_ How must that feel? _ I wonder, propping my elbow on my knee and my chin in my hand.  _ No guardian to turn to, and no community to support them. When it first happened, they really were all alone. And now, for it to have happened again, and with only the kodan to support - well, the kodan are the kodan. But their ideas of balance can be dangerous, and unappeasable. Which makes me wonder all that they’ve been told. _

 

I watch them rise from the water again, gasping, reaching up to smooth their hair back from their face. I watch my life partner breathe, face turned up to the ceiling, before they submerge themselves back into the water again.

 

_ I’m part of the difference between last time and this. I’m here for them now, as their wife, and as their confidant. I have the power to help them now, however they need. It’s not going to be easy at all. There’s going to be meltdowns, and periods where I lose them. It’s going to be terrifying. _

 

_ But I can deal with terror. After all, they’re the one that has to be inside of it all. _

 

_ I’m going to support them, no matter what. I’m going to stand by them, through everything that comes. I’m going to be their wife - and I’m going to be their friend. And I’m never, ever, going to let them feel as alone as they must’ve when they were living on their own. _

 

_ I swear it. _

 

“Eir?”

 

It’s a croak of a word. I start, and look to the water. They’ve turned, breaking the sort of spell they’d been under when they’d been in ritual practice. I watch them walk through the water, slowly, to the edge. They reach their hand out, and hold it out to me.

 

“ _ Eir _ .”

 

I push myself up and crawl forward, until I’m at the water’s edge. I take their hand.

 

“I’m right here for you, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

 

We stay there and watch each other for a long, long time.

 

***

I help fold them into their soft tunic when they emerge from the water, and then I help fold the blankets back around their shoulders. I guide them from the baths, and back out into the open lodge. Cecile’s waiting for us by the exit; she gives us a demure smile as we approach.

 

“You’re welcome to come back anytime,” she says to Alex. They just nod their head. I thank her before we leave.

 

It’s a cold, crisp night. Our feet sink into the snow, and a gentle wind blows at us while we walk. It’s entirely black out, too, and there’s nobody outside. It feels like just the two of us in the world, together.

 

I watch as Alexei breathes into the cold, making little puffs of air that grow foggy in the cold. I keep my arm behind their shoulders, and help guide them as they stumble and walk through the snow. They’re so tired. I can see that, in the slouch of their body, and the weariness of their eyes. They lean against me as we walk, and I help support them as we approach the gates to the steading.

 

I hear Garm barking as we walk up; I assume he’s alerting for Trahearne’s sake, so he can let us in now that we’re back. We’d told them to lock behind us. We stand at the gate, and I hold Alexei tightly, and try to show them my best smile.

 

“Trahearne will be glad to see us back,” I say. “And whatever needs to be done tomorrow - I’ll be with you, through it. I promise.”

 

Suddenly, I watch their eyes as a fluffy piece of snow falls between us. I look up at the sky. It’s beginning to snow, and quite heavily. I smile, and look back to Alex.

 

“It’s snowing. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

They nod, slightly, and turn away. I watch them lift their face to the sky, watching the thick, clumpy snow fall from it. I pull my arm from their shoulders and take their hand, instead. I reach for their other and hold them both, standing across from them - the two of us alone in the world, in the middle of a snowstorm.

 

“Alexei,” I say. “No matter what happens, I’m always going to be here for you. I swear that.”

 

I hear the gate creak. From within, I watch Trahearne emerge.

 

“Are the two of you alright?” he asks.

 

I look to Alexei. They’re still looking up at the sky.

 

“I think we will be, Trahearne. We will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through that. I know that was a hard-hitting chapter.
> 
> Just wanted to give resources where they exist: the baths that Alexei visited were inspired by the mikvah in Jewish culture and religion. So if they seem familiar, that's why! (I'm getting my minor in religious studies, which is why I know this stuff.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait - life got in the way! I did promise a short update for those of you who couldn't read the last chapter, so here's the short summary:
> 
> While Alexei was off in the Frostgorge Sound, they were kidnapped by the Sons of Svanir, tortured, and sexually assaulted by their ex, Seth, who survived their initial attack against him. Eir, in hearing this, chose to take them to Snow Leopard's Lodge, and swore to herself that she would take care of them.
> 
> The results of the last chapter follow, as well as a new little arc of the story. Strap in!

We sleep in the next morning. I wake up long before they do, at the crack of dawn, but I don’t get up like I usually do - instead, I curl closer to Alexei, and let them sleep. I expect they’ll be angry about it later, but all I can think of is their exhausted expression from the night before. I’m content to let them sleep in a little late. They need it.

 

When they do wake up, hours later, it’s softly, with eyes blearily flickering open to mine. I make sure that the first thing they see is my face. I smile at them, as they quietly shift and stretch in bed. Their arms come around me.

 

“As beautiful as the Sound was,” they mumble against my neck. I bring my hands to their back.

 

“Were the mornings so stunning?”

 

“Bright blue skies, and a yellow horizon . . . and the way it all glimmered from the ice. It was amazing. One of the things I missed even as I moved down into the Drifts.”

 

“It was really that beautiful, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” they squirm a little. They drop their eyes toward the pillows. “I...guess I have to talk to Trahearne. About not returning to the Pact.”

 

“The distraction might do you some good,” I suggest. They shake their head, just a little.

 

“I just want to be with you for a little bit. I don’t- . . . the idea of dealing with  _ this _ , and with the Pact . . . I’m not sure I could manage it. I just want some time to try and recoup. Without pressure on my back to be something I don’t feel I can be.”

 

“I understand,” I say. I lean in and kiss their brow. “I’ll stand by you, then. Whatever you need, I’ll support it. I just want you to be well again.”

 

“I know,” their hands come around to grip at the front of my tunic. “I . . . I’m sorry if I act bizarre. It’s like my mind can’t decide what it wants to be. It’s like I’m sex-repulsed and hypersexual at the same time.”

 

“You didn’t seem to have trouble touching me before.”

 

They shiver. “Your body isn’t mine. Yours is...pure.”

 

“So is yours. You just happen to have some psychic marks on it.”

 

They hiccup. “I can still . . .  _ Feel _ him sometimes. Like he’s still touching me. I keep waking up from nightmares, thinking he’s choking me. This was- this is the first time in months that I’ve slept through the night.”

 

Nightmares. He’d given them  _ nightmares _ , the damned things. My arms tighten around them. I press my face to their hair, and breathe in their scent. They aren’t crying, though they could. I kiss the top of their head.

 

“I’ll keep the nightmares away as much as I’m able,” I promise them. “You deserve to sleep well. You need the rest.”

 

“I’m trying,” they mumble. Their hand comes to my waist. “I- I feel like- ...you’re warm.”

 

“Am I?” I ask. They tuck closer, breath heavy.

 

“I-If you wanted to...I mean...I know it’s you. I  _ know _ that right now...so…”

 

I can read their intent clearly. I press my lips to their cheek, and rest my hand against their waist. “Are you sure? You want me to touch you?”

 

“Yes...please…” They tremble - oh, already, the  _ trembling _ is getting to me. “I c-can’t- I haven’t been able to do it myself. I’ve  _ tried _ , but it hasn’t- th-this is you, you’re my  _ wife _ , I-“

 

“Shhh,” I gently lean up and kiss their forehead. We’re both already bare under the furs, and their legs are tangled around mine. I gently slide my hand down their body, avoiding their hip as much as I can. My fingers tuck between their legs, and slide against their clit. They immediately curse, sharply, and tighten their arms around me. They’re shaking so hard I’m worried they’re going to break down.

 

“Is this okay?” I ask.

 

“ _ Haah- _ “ they shove their hips against my hand. Their eyes are squeezed shut - they nod, and I lean up and kiss their forehead. My fingers play with their clit, pushing, pulling, rolling it in circles. Their breath is so heavy, and they tuck themselves closer to me while they tremble.

 

“Good-!” They gasp out the single word. Their hands bunch in my hair. I gently shush them; their eyes are tearing up, watering, and I’m careful as my hand slips further between their legs, against their slit. In moments I’m inside of them, and they react instantly - legs hiking up, wrapping around my hips, almost crushing my arm. I wince a little, and they ease up, but they’re so tense as I gently move my fingers inside of them, curling towards their soft spot. They stammer a bastardized version of my name, and I reach up with my other hand to touch their cheek.

 

“I’ve got you, love.”

 

“E-Eir…!”

 

Gently, I roll them onto their back, and lean above them. My hand is constant against them, tugging and curling them open to me - two fingers, then three. They look so unbalanced, with their eyes tearing up and their lower lip bitten to bleeding. I put my free hand to their cheek, and they reach up and cling to it. They press their face to my hand as they cry and tremble.

 

“You’re alright, love. It’s just the two of us. I’m with you, and your pleasure. You’ll never have to worry after it ever again. I promise.”

 

Their body goes taut. They look up at me with watering, green eyes.

 

“Love…!”

 

***

Much as they wish to stay in bed, I finally convince them to get up with me and check on Trahearne and the Interim Commander. The two of them are just arriving back from errands in Hoelbrak when we step out to find them. They seem a little tired, but they mask it.

 

“You’re well?” Commander Veradisia asks Alexei as soon as we meet. They can’t meet her eyes. They look away instead, and rub at the back of their neck.

 

“In . . . a manner, I guess,” they gesture to Trahearne. “Can we talk? Privately?”

 

He frowns. “Of course. Let’s step away for a moment.”

 

The two of them walk off to get some privacy. I’m left alone with Veradisia, who looks after them with a thoughtful frown. I haven’t had much time to talk to her one on one, and as a result, I don’t know her well. Still, I do my best.

 

“Quite the work you have ahead of you,” I say.

 

“They’re not returning as Commander,” she responds.

 

I’m a touch surprised at her bluntness, but a serious question deserves a serious answer. “Yes,” I say. “They’ve decided they want to take some time at home.”

 

She hums. Though she’s almost child-sized by Norn standards, she demands respect through presence alone. It’s a surprising feat, for a human. “I’ll have to make some adjustments, then,” she says. “I hadn’t anticipated being in this role for so long. I was expecting six months.”

 

A subtle blow. I frown. “Alexei had some difficulties on their travels.”

 

“I’d assumed. They have spiritual scarring. It’s easy to see that they’re struggling. It’s wise of them to step down, as a result. A very good Commander, indeed, on and off the battlefield.”

 

It’s hard to tell whether I can applaud her or not - at least her title of revenant left her some insight. Still, she isn’t wrong. In a strange way, I’m also proud of them for their decisions about their care. Though I worry, still. How can I help distract them from their melancholia?

 

I hear something nearby, and turn to look. In the yard closer to the lodge, there’s a strange...tendril poking up from the ground. Sickened green, and spiked. It’s waving about like it’s alive. I gesture to Veradisia, and point.

 

“What in Tyria do you think that is?”

 

“Another? This far east?!” she sighs and snaps one of her swords out of its sheath and into her hand. “They’re impossible!”

 

“What are they?” I ask.

 

“Mordrem tendrils - a sign that Mordremoth is waking up. Stubborn things,” she swings at it with her sword, and the majority of it flops to the ground, lifeless. The remaining stump burrows back into the ground and disappears. Veradisia leans down and carefully picks up the vine. “Well, it’s in good condition, at least. It means we can get more people studying it.”

 

“Last I’d heard,” I say, “Mordremoth was in the Maguuma Jungles.”

 

“That’s our suspicion. Which makes it bizarre that these tendrils are reaching so far. I’ve heard reports as far as eastern Kryta, but now the Shiverpeaks?” She turns to me and shakes her head. “His reach is growing. The Pact is doing good work in Maguuma, but now Mordremoth’s extending farther. We can’t afford for our troops in other areas to be distracted, especially here.”

 

“That makes sense. What with Jormag…” I point to the limp vine in her hand. “What about the vine, then?”

 

“Encased in an experimental vat, and shipped off to researchers at Fort Trinity. They’re mostly Durmand Priory. I trust the team at our base, and believe they can handle this with a magnitude of care.”

 

“I’ve always respected the Durmand Priory. They do excellent work.”

 

“Yes, well - I respect the majority of them. Though, there are far too many of my own kind. Humans are...fickle.”

 

An odd sentiment. “I’ve never heard a human against their own kind.”

 

“I was raised by Charr.”

 

Interesting. Probably renegades or gladium, then. Though that leaves other questions, as well. “What led you to the Pact from there, then?”

 

“How I arrived at the Pact isn’t a concern,” she says. Blunt - and defensive. I don’t have time to ask, as Trahearne and Alexei return. Alexei looks even more tired, but they seem relieved at the same time. I gesture to them, and they gladly come to stand in my arms.

 

“Everything went well?” I ask.

 

“Yeah,” they say, before hiding their face in my shoulder. I rub their back.

 

“I’ve got you, love. No need to worry. That’s over with, now.”

 

They mumble something I can’t catch, and pull away. I look down to Trahearne and Veradisia. They’re looking at each other, seemingly communicating in pure silence. They nod to one another, before turning back to us. Trahearne puts on a big smile.

 

“It’s a relief to know the two of you have each other,” he says. I see Alexei give a tired smile.

 

“I’m lucky to have her,” they say, before taking my hands in theirs and leaning in to kiss my cheek. I chuckle.

 

“The feeling’s more than mutual,” I say. “Though we haven’t had nearly enough time as a married couple.”

 

“Your anniversary will be on the horizon soon enough,” Trahearne says. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to celebrate your nuptials.”

 

Our anniversary - it seems so far away still, yet so close. It’s strange, to have them newly back and yet our marriage so long ago. Back during much happier times…

 

Alexei’s still holding my hands, though looking to Trahearne. “I haven’t had nearly enough time to celebrate our marriage. We’ve spent so long apart, even before I went to Frostgorge Sound. All that distance makes me want to savour my time with her.”

 

“I feel the same,” I add, this time pulling Alexei closer so I can kiss their cheek as well. “It’ll be nice to take some time for ourselves.”

 

“Romantic indeed,” Trahearne sighs. “It reminds me of my time with Riannoc. Much happier times, indeed.”

 

“Riannoc would want you to be happy, Trahearne. And I’m sure he’d be proud of you, leading the Pact like you are,” Alexei says to him. “And even more so, with wielding Caladbolg in his stead.”

 

“I suppose so,” he answers. Veradisia’s looking up to the sky.

 

“It’s getting late, Trahearne. We need to meet with the Vigil stationed here.”

 

“Ah, of course. You’re right, Veradisia. Though, we should relay that message from Whitebear, first.”

 

“A message?” I ask.

 

“Yes. Knut Whitebear would like to sit down to lunch with the two of you, at your earliest convenience. I don’t know why, but it sounded much more like a social call than anything of an emergency.”

 

“Interesting. We’ll have to meet him, then,” I look to Alexei. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

 

“We can do that,” they say with a smile. “We’ll send him a message and go see what he’s after. Hopefully it’s nothing major.”

 

***

Knut responds positively to our message, and bids that we bring nothing other than ourselves for lunch. The next day, we go to the Great Lodge and up into the small loft far above the Fang. Knut’s waiting for us with a small table laden with hunks of meat, ale, and some dressed vegetables that look like they came from the careful farms in the southern Wayfarer Hills. We sit with him and eat gratefully - Alexei seems to eat well, far better than they have since they got home. Knut is casual, but soon talk turns to business.

 

“There’s been much talk about the two of you since the Fang was broken,” he says after a mouthful of dolyak. “People are wondering what your next action will be, Breaker.”

 

“‘Alexei’ is fine,” they answer with a serious and almost sad expression. “And I don’t know yet. There were complications in the Sound that I’m not ready to discuss. I need to recover from that, first.”

 

“Of course,” he says. “I don’t blame you for that, or for your time away. But people are becoming unsettled. I feel that they’re finally ready to act,” he adds, looking to me, “About the dragon.”

 

Now, of all times, he sees? How complicated. I give him a kind smile. “I believe it makes sense to begin to rally - but Alexei and I also need time. I rarely ever refuse you, but . . .”

 

“Jormag is a serious threat, though,” Alexei adds. They look to me. “If one of us could-”

 

“-perhaps in our off time?”

 

“-We want to help. Things have changed, though, getting home now,” Alexei finishes. “I’m not sure how long it’s going to be before I’m ready.”

 

“Then perhaps the Wolfborn can begin to call people to aid,” Knut suggests with a sip of his ale. “Get people back into top form. I’m sure many of us are out of fitness, and need more official training.”

 

“Not you, though,” Alexei checks with a grin. “You’re always in good shape, Knut.”

 

He laughs. “Still a charmer, Breaker. No - Alexei. You’ve grown much, since we last interacted.”

 

“I spent a lot of time with the Order of Whispers, learning to master my charm. I have to be smooth for Eir, too,” They look to me with a smile.

 

I open my mouth to give a cheeky answer of my own, just before the loft doors suddenly burst open. We all turn to see a man rushing in and falling to his knees. He looks pale as a ghost, and though the guards are trying to grab him and pull him out, his voice is desperate.

 

“Svanir have taken my sons!”

 

“What?!” I stand as Knut puts down his utensils sharply. Alexei leaps up and dashes forward, ready to pull the man away from the guards.

 

“Stop! We can talk to him. Knut, tell the guards they can-!”

 

“At ease,” Knut says as he also stands. They step back; the poor man from before is crying on his knees, and shaking up a storm. I watch Alexei kneel down and put a hand to his back in comfort. They seem pale, as well - surprised by the sudden intrusion - but their voice is calm.

 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re going to sort this out. Just breathe, alright? Can you tell us your name?”

 

The man sniffles, and rubs at his eyes with his forearm. “M-My name- it’s Bjorn,” he stammers. “It doesn’t matter. You have to go after them!”

 

“What happened?” I ask. He looks up to me with big, watery tears in his eyes.

 

“My wife d-died in childbirth only a month ago - I’ve been t-trying to raise Leikr and Hafr alone, but the Sons of Svanir raided my home, and knocked me out when I tried to stop them. When I came to, my boys were gone!”

 

Knut seems frustrated, and angry. “Which way did they go, sir?”

 

“I l-live just on the outskirts of the city- th-they headed northeast, they-”

 

“It’s okay,” Alexei rubs his back, and finally gives him a steady pat. “We’re going to do something for your sons. Give us a few minutes and we’ll come up with a plan. Can you sit outside while we do?”

 

He nods, and one of the guards comes up to lead him out. I watch Alexei stand; they seem anxious, but more than that, they’re stubbornly resolute. I know what they want to do, the moment the door closes behind Bjorn and the guard.

 

“Are you certain?” I ask, before they speak. “What with everything-”

 

“And let two innocent boys get turned into Svanir? Without a doubt? No. You said before that I need distraction - and this is it. I can beat the sense into the Svanir with my hands tied behind my back. They’ll be far easier to deal with.”

 

“You’ve a brave volunteer, Breaker,” Knut says as he approaches us. “I’d hardly be one to stop you if the two of you wanted to go. I can summon up the Wolfborn to accompany you, if you’d like.”

 

“No; the faster we go, the better, and more men will just slow us down,” Alexei says bluntly. I put a hand on their shoulder. They’re stiff and tense.

 

“What they’re  _ trying _ to say,” I add, “Is that the two of us are fully capable of handling it. To send more men would be a waste of resources. Best that they remain here, and begin readying the norn who want to fight.”

 

“The only question is,” Alexei says, “Where could they be taking the boys? I’ve been gone for so long that I don’t know where it is they’ve set up.”

 

“If they were seen heading northwest,” Knut muses, “Then they may be heading to Frusenfell Creek. A village there has been reporting sights of Son of Svanir nearby, though we’re unsure where their exact location is. They’ve been reporting similar problems of children going missing, though we haven’t determined if the Svanir are involved or not.”

 

“Wait,” Alexei turns to him, anger etched into their features. I want to interrupt and stop them, but soon their bursting out, “If there’s been other reports of this happening, why has it taken it so long to act?!”

 

“Our resources are not infinite,” Knut replies, ever calm in the face of the whirlwind that was Alexei. “And our men have been divided. It was only recently that some of troops went off to Cragstead, to deal with their Icebrood problem.”

 

Cragstead - a division of troops  _ I _ had asked for. I sigh. Alexei looks to me with an expression of guilt. I shake my head. It’s not their fault, and I can’t go back and change the past, no matter how much I want to.

 

“At least it’s a place to start,” I answer, sighing. “We can’t leave things as they are, regardless. If Svanir are trying to kidnap impressionable youth and turn them to their side . . .”

 

“It’s a disgrace,” Alexei says, “And we should be fucking embarrassed of ourselves to see it happen. No more kids going missing. We’ll set it straight - along with their goddamn heads.”

 

Knut sighs, ever so quietly. I shake my head, too. Once Alexei got their mind made up, it was impossible to steer them, and they’re so set on this that their crassness is showing through. Still, I reach forward and take their hand, to give it a soft squeeze.

 

“Then we act,” I tell them. “Immediately. We set out tonight.”


End file.
